Down Memory Lane - Revised Edition
by VallirenWrites
Summary: Alexander Hendrickson's spent his entire life having nightmares and odd dreams, but now they're becoming even more vivid and specific. At night, horrors of the battlefield rage inside his mind, slowly consuming his sanity. But someone else is in his dreams too, and Alexander watches as he dies in every life. Alexander's lover, reincarnated time and time again. John Laurens.
1. O Lover Mine, Mine Most Divine

**Because I have major issues with my old story.**

* * *

"_Towers of gold are still too little_

_These hands could hold the world_

_But it'll never be enough." _

* * *

"Alexander mother-fucking Hendrickson!"

Alex jolts awake, blinking and fumbling for the lamp cord. The old bulb flickers once, twice, and then springs to life, illuminating the faded yet elegant maroon wallpaper patterned with golden toile. He tosses his covers off, stretching leisurely as he reflects on his dream last night, a strange hybrid of the Revolutionary War and World War Two where he was a soldier travelling through time. He shakes his head at the thought. _U.S History must be getting to me. _

His gaze turns to the digital clock on his desk next to his school laptop. His eyes widen as he takes in the flashing 7:00 and he bolts up, racing to his drawers to throw on a random outfit. He dashes down the stairs, grabbing his computer and his bag that he thankfully packed the night before.

Through his blurred vision, he spies his glasses on the kitchen table next to a protein bar. He snatches up his glasses, ignoring the food and heading into the living room.

Alex is greeted by his adopted brother Gilbert grimacing at him. "We're as late to school as Jefferson is to Band, _mon frère_. Did you sleep through your alarm again?"

"So what if I did? 6:30's too early to get up, anyway, now shut your face." He grouses, throwing open the door and walking out. Gil rushes after him, holding both of their phones. He chucks Alex's phone at him and Alex hastily catches it, glaring at him even as he can't keep the smile off his face. "Thanks, asshole."

"You're very fucking welcome."

The mile-long walk/half dash to school is rather uneventful. Nearly being run over by foul-mouthed drivers who don't know how to stop at a crosswalk, being glared at by assorted strangers as they speedwalk through the downtown area, and one of the local pigeons stealing Alex's algebra homework. Alex races after it until he finally tackles it to the ground and wrenches his math back, oblivious to the horrified stares of onlookers.

When he finally trots back to Gilbert, his brother just raises his eyebrow and shakes his head. "Sad, _mon frère_."

"Whatever," Alex replies, putting his earbuds in and clicking into a random song, hoping to drown out the constant honking of car horns and whoosh of tires against the uneven roads. Before long, his surroundings seem to completely vanish.

_**"All the shine of a thousand spotlights, all the stars we steal from the night sky will never be enough, never be enough..." **_

"Hey, Alex? What's up?"

_**"Towers of gold are still too little, these hands could hold the world but it'll never be enough." **_

"Alex!"

_**"Never be enough for me, never, never..." **_

Alex suddenly remembers how tired he is, how he kept waking up last night, how it hurts to even move his legs and how all he wants is to sleep, and before he knows it, he can feel himself collapsing into bed. He feels his dream from before tugging at him, a voice so terribly familiar calling to him to come back to him, not to go, to come back...

He takes the hand of his mystery caller at the same time a burst of pain hits the back of his head and he is yanked forward, into fond, strong arms clad in deep blue. He feels the press of a kiss to his forehead and of gloved fingers brushing his cheek. Alex looks up and sees a tall, curly-haired man smiling warmly at him, and he knows this man, he _knows_ him.

_**"Never enough for me... for me... for me!" **_

Then there are lips against his own, and Alex feels his hair graze his neck, which makes no sense because he's never grown it long before. It all feels so foreign and yet so right, his hands gripping tightly to muscled shoulders and the press of brass buttons against his hands. He hears the sound of a bomb, as if it were straight from a war movie, and the buttons under his hands turn to straps and he feels a strong helmet atop his head.

When he pulls away, he is surrounded by artillery and there is the whistle of planes in the night sky, and the man before him is wearing a combat uniform and his smile has become sad.

"Goodbye, love. Maybe we'll meet again."

"Wait, don't go!" Alex finds himself catching the other man's hand, dread surging in his gut and the undeniable feeling that if he lets him go, this man will die. "Please."

"I have to, Alex. I'm sorry."

He turns and leaves and once he vanishes into the dark, Alex collapses. The dust bores holes in his vision, excruciating as drops of fire, and then everything goes black.

"_**For me…"**_

* * *

**I think that's considerably better, but we'll see. **


	2. Your Eyes That Carry Heaven's Shine

**The second chapter is finally done! **

**Trigger warning for mentions of suicide.**

* * *

_"When you're gone_

_The pieces of my heart are missin' you_

_When you're gone_

_The face I came to know is missin', too."_

* * *

Alex hears the steady drum of the rain outside as he looks forlornly at the blank white ceiling, already missing home and companionship. His mind drifts to the classes he must have missed by now. He's going to have so much homework to do.

A nurse walks into the room, her dark skin and poofy hair reminding him of Gilbert. God, Gilbert. As soon as Alex had woken up, his brother had rushed to his side, frantically babbling out worried questions in French. He'd been forced to go back to school, even though Alex would be able to come home with him by the end of the day.

"Feeling alright, Mr Hamilton?"

He looks to where she stands, clipboard poised in hand. He nods silently, his vocal cords just can't seem to work. She frowns and jots something down before looking back at him. "So you're sure it's just a fainting spell?"

He didn't tell them about the strange dreams, the ones that felt so real. They'd write it off as hallucinations or give him some new drug to take. He hates pills. Doesn't trust himself around them, not after his father overdosed on them. Who knows if he'd do the same thing.

"It seems to me like the fainting spell was from a lack of sleep. I understand high school is stressful, but please do manage your sleep amount. If you're struggling still, I suggest you see a doctor, it's very likely from the report your brother gave us that you have insomnia."

Alex regards her curiously. Her eyes, under a layer of makeup, are still faintly red and puffy. He can see the outline of dark circles. She's just as stressed and tired as he is.

He swallows thickly, clearing his throat and speaking despite his hurting throat and dry mouth. His voice is raspy. "Thanks." He pauses for a minute. "What's up?"

"Hm?"

"You look like something's worrying you."

Her shoulders slump a bit and she sighs, the professional facade slipping away as she sets down her clipboard and sits on the edge of his bed. "I'm just worried about my sister, she's... depressed, she has strange... episodes a lot. I didn't want to leave her alone, things always get worse for her when she's alone. I don't want her to... you know."

Alex winces, sitting up slightly and reaching out to pat her on the arm. She gives him a gentle smile tinged with sadness before getting up and pouring him a plastic cup of water. She hands it to him. "Here, drink this. Your brother should be able to pick you up soon."

She turns to walk away and he quickly speaks up. "Take care," His gaze flicks to her nametag. "Angelica."

Angelica gives him another smile. "Thanks. You too. Hope things get better."

* * *

They don't.

The fainting spells don't happen, thankfully. And Gilbert keeps an eye on him, sending him to bed if he's up too late reading, studying or on his phone. He keeps himself hydrated and tries not to become stressed, but it does nothing.

Every night, he tries to sleep. But there are dreams. Always.

Blood-covered and corpse-strewn battlefields. Navy blue uniforms, camouflage and harnesses. Cannons and muskets, knives and hatchets, bombs and bullets. Curly brown hair, arrogant smirks and goofy smiles, always. A strange girl with glossy black hair, playing the piano or walking hand-in-hand with him.

Conferences with George Washington and other figures from history. Once, a party spent in elegant company, filled with idle chatter with a handsome man named André who kissed his knuckles and gave him a flirtatious smile. His brunet friend (lover?) leading him away.

_"He's trouble, Alex. Stay away from him." _

* * *

The dreams get worse and worse, becoming nightmares rank with pain and death. They haunt him even in the day. He closes his eyes and sees blood, sees the outline of people who he knows were his friends, watches them die.

He can't sleep.

He tries sleeping pills. They don't help. They make him fall asleep, but then the dreams are worse and he can't get out.

Alex doesn't want to sleep. He's too scared to.

He keeps hearing a single name, over and over again.

_John Laurens._

* * *

John jolts at a loud thunderclap, flashes of lightning streaking through his window blinds and giving everything an eerie flickering quality. When they fade, he's back to sitting in the shadowed dark with only his thoughts for company and the drum of relentless rain outside his window. He stands up one more time, crossing to the other side of his room to see if his father has unlocked his door yet. He hasn't.

He flops back on his bed, lifting one of the slats of the blinds to stare out at the torrent pouring down, wincing as more thunder echoes. At least his father didn't toss him outside this time.

He feels a lump in his throat and a weight on his chest like a crushing stone block. His hands start to shake, his lungs constricting in one of his familiar panic attacks as he clutches desperately at the sheets below him. It all feels so unfair and it's his fault that his father's mad at him, but he deserves to be treated better than this, doesn't he? No, of course not.

His eyes are burning, burning, and then a tear slides down his cheek and then the floodgates open, and before he knows it he's curled on his side in a fetal position, sobbing. Gasping for air, with his chest constricting and his face streaked with tears, he curls farther in on himself, wanting it to all just stop...

It's like a nightmare, so distant yet so vivid and horrendous, yet he knows there will be no waking up because this is reality and it's fucking cold and cruel and there's nothing he can do about it and it hurts, it hurts so bad.

Time spirals into meaninglessness, minutes and hours indefinite within the enclosing space of his room.

He doesn't know how many others share his pain, how Alex lays in his bed, staring at the wall with bloodshot eyes and dark circles as nightmares full of pain and death and war tear at his mind and his sanity, how there are gashes on his palm and how the skin on the inside of his cheek is raw, from biting and clawing at himself as terror traps him. He doesn't know that two girls his age weep as they find their sister in the bathtub, drenched in red and her life spent. He doesn't see Gilbert sitting alone at the kitchen table, clutching hot chocolate in his hands and wallowing in loneliness, feeling powerless as he watches his brother suffer when he can't do anything about it.

_"What's wrong with me?" _

_"This can't be real."_

_"I don't know what to do..." _

_"I just want to die." _

_"I'm alone." _

_"Someone help me, please!" _

_"It's just hopeless." _

John hugs his arms close, chest heaving with dried sobs as bruises sting at every movement. Heart thundering in his ears, his vision distorts as he catches a brief glimpse of brilliant blue eyes, feels a tug on his hand as if a ghost is trying to pull him away.

He swallows, reaching out to take a pill that's supposed to help with the hallucinations that never works, but he keeps taking and lying to his father that he does because all his father wants is for him to be normal. Why can't he just be normal?

Time drifts on, and John stays shivering in the cold, long into the night until he finally falls into a restless sleep.

A pity life isn't a dream he can wake up from, because he damn well wants to.

* * *

**Hopefully, the third chapter will be out a bit sooner. Let me know what you think.**


End file.
